


A Grin in the Dark

by EmeraldSage



Series: The Holiday Collection [23]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America sneaking around, FACE Family, FACE Family having no clue, Gift Giving, M/M, Prompt Day 23: Gift Giving, RusAmeHoliday, Russia being suspicious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:05:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8991553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSage/pseuds/EmeraldSage
Summary: RusAme Holiday Prompt #23: Gift Giving





	

 

            It was dark, rainy, and England was sleeping.

            The black clad intruder slipped into the living room, carefully minding his steps. The hearth gleamed with firelight, and the Christmas tree in the corner of the room glowed, resplendent in its dimmed radiance. The figure felt his smile soften nostalgically, a gleam of golden catching in the stray locks that fell from beyond the confines of his black beanie. From the impossibly small bag at his hip, he withdrew a red wrapped present, and knelt before the tree. He caressed it lovingly, feeling the creasing in the wrapping paper as it cuddled the warm material. There were gleaming golden stars that decorated the soft red paper that so resembled the ones that he and his guardian would place atop the Christmas tree close to the evening itself…one that resembled the star topping the Christmas tree right now.

            He sighed softly, withdrawing. He settled on his heels for a split second before he was up again, heading through the hallway to the open window from whence he came. He caught the pale mint gleam of England’s familiar – Flying Mint Bunny – as the magical creature watched him fondly. He could probably fool the rest of the world when he donned his disguises, but he’d never been able to fool England, and thusly, never the creatures who came part and parcel of his guardian’s heritage.

            Mint let him pass easily, and he slid into England’s large suite of rooms in the expanded cottage. The window he’d used to climb into England’s home had, unfortunately, been in this area of the house. He’d judged the height rather badly, and all the ground-level windows were well warded. He just had to be particularly quiet as he made his way around the room. Especially when he was crossing through England’s bedroom, and the sleeping man was only a few feet away…

            The intruder froze when a particularly loud creak sounded from underneath his boots and England’s face twisted forebodingly. There was a growl, then a grumble from the former Empire, and the intruder nearly broke into a nervous sweat when he realized that the island nation was _waking up_.

            Hellfire reigned supreme whenever the island empire woke before he was ready, by something he wasn’t aware of. The intruder would’ve booked it if he hadn’t known that trying to would only wake the nation up faster. So, he stood there suspended in a frame of time, as England’s face went from somewhat upset in mid-sleep, to scowling, well on his way to consciousness.

            Something loud crashed downstairs, and the intruder’s eyes widened dramatically. The black clad figure threw himself to the floor and rolled underneath the empire’s bed just as the nation himself snapped awake in a furor, roaring, “FROG!” and stomping off, barely missing the panicking intruder quite literally right under his nose.

            Once the figure could hear England crashing around downstairs, searching for the cause of the noise that had disturbed his slumber and brought him about to full consciousness, the black clad figure slumped in relief.

            The absolute last thing he wanted was to be caught by the raging empire. But now, how was he going to get out while England was still awake, before the former empire noticed the open window in his rooms? And he needed to get out, especially when he still had three more places to visit tonight!

            Blue eyes flared, pouting, before they brightened. _That_ was an idea!

* * *

            He was hellishly sore from the way he’d squeezed through the spaces in England’s rose garden fence, and certainly hadn’t been quiet enough entering through the window. Not that it mattered, really; France was snoring loud enough to wake the entire house, if there had been anyone else close enough to wake. He bit back the snickers that threatened to escape and give him away; after all, France may snore, but he was a light sleeper. He’d risked quite a bit when he’d collapsed through the upper balcony window, after all. Even if it was just France.

            No nation was ever quite sane when they’d just woken up; he was no exception.

            This would probably be his easiest drop tonight, he thought amusedly as he strode through the hallway. The balcony had, unfortunately, been right next to France’s bedroom. He’d have to find his way back that way once he delivered his drop. He smiled as he crept to the living room, but nearly shouted in panic when he’d crossed the threshold.

            _Shit_ , he needed to be more careful. But really, how was he supposed to have known that France would be sleeping on the couch when the sound of snores echoed from the upstairs bedroom? On second thought, he really didn’t want to know. He took in the near-empty wineglass that sat on the coffee table, just within France’s reach, as the country of romance was splayed across the pale blue fainting couch, snoring softly in comparison to the monstrous snores echoing from upstairs. Really, he thought, it sounded so much like France up there that it was hardly a wonder he’d been so surprised. Still, it only meant he had to be far more careful than he was used to being.

            He slipped the present – blue striped paper this time – under the tree, and bolted cross the house and up the stairs to the balcony before France, or whomever was sleeping in France’s bedroom, could wake up and catch him.

            Hopefully he wouldn’t fall off of the balcony again. (He did)

* * *

            He woke when he heard the creak coming from downstairs. His hand curled automatically around his hockey stick, body sliding into a poised position until he heard the curse in one of _their_ languages, and let his grip lax but not let go. He shifted on the bed to make himself more comfortable, and his polar bear guide protested the shifting movement. He heard the intruder outside pause at the sound, before returning to the task they’d set themselves, far quieter than usual. He curled the makeshift weapon to his chest, a smile threatening to take over his face when he realized what was going on.

            His little brother was planning on surprising him.

            His ears, enhanced by a quiet prayer to Nanuq, who had always watched over him like Mana had watched his brother, caught the racket that was going on downstairs. His little brother was attempting to be sneaky, and he supposed that, with anyone else, it would have succeeded. But he could hear the soft, almost soundless footsteps nearly tripping down the stairs. He smiled when he could almost _feel_ his baby brother’s presence moving towards the Christmas scene he’d set up in the living room. He could almost _see_ the way his brother knelt before the hearth fire – lit up in streams of glowing gold and ancient silver threaded amongst the loving flames that favored his twin – pulling a present from a pack he had presumably brought with him, whatever way he had entered. He could hear the way the package rumbled against the wooden flooring, pushed gently until it settled contentedly at the edge of the evergreen tree he had harvested for the holiday season.

            He stayed quiet, still, when he heard the soft, barely audible tread of footsteps ascend the staircase unnecessarily. When the door to his bedroom was creaked ajar, he remained motionless, eyes closed, and silent, as though splayed out in his sleep. When he felt the soft, warm breathing of his twin – the only other in the world who shared almost every fiber of his being – caress his cheek as the other bent to brush a gentle kiss on his brow. He remembered the evenings when they shared furs together, and his brother would be too scared to sleep; the nights he would hold his little brother – twins, but not by much – brush a kiss to his forehead, and rock him to sleep within his embrace.

            He waited, until the soft tread of footsteps had vanished – outside through the hallway’s window, interestingly enough – before he allowed the smile to touch his lips. His brother may spend much of his waking moments aggravating him, but the little moments, the little things, proved very much that his baby brother was still the same little boy he had once known.

            He settled himself into his bed and sent his thoughts towards sleep once more, drifting off to memories and dreams of two young boys and their endless adventures with their limitless capacity for the love they shared with each other.

* * *

            He breathed deeply, almost silently, in the frigid, invasive cold within the heart of one of the coldest nations in the world. He was curled against the window frame of one of the hallway windows of Russia’s house, and he was pressed back as far as he could lean against the solid walls to keep just out of view of the security cameras. They would go into a loop feed momentarily, but he had to keep out of sight until they did, otherwise anyone watching the feed – or re-watching, as was the hope he was placing his work upon – would know something was up.

            There was a soft beep in the device in his ear, and he breathed in sharply before dislodging the window from its frame carefully. He moved soundlessly, focused entirely on his task, knowing that Tony would send him a quick beep if there was anyone headed his way. Well, he would until he got into Russia’s house; that territory was a dead zone like no other in regards to most of his technology. He’d have to rely on his good old fashioned observational skills (cue the sound of England’s face palm) if he wanted to get through this alright and in one peace. He could do this; he was the hero, after all, and the night wasn’t complete if he didn’t deliver Russia his present. It didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous though.

            If anyone was going to catch him at his work, it was going to be Russia. He hoped to all the deities he knew, and then some, that the nation was sleeping, and wouldn’t have the faintest idea – save the security cameras he’d missed, and he _knew_ there were ones he did – that there was someone trespassing in his house at this late hour.

* * *

 

            Someone was sneaking around in his house.

            He’d woken, only an hour or so after he’d taken to bed, to the soft click of something sliding out of place and had known instantaneously that there was another nation in his home. After decades of housing other nations within his domain, he’d learned to sense their presence whenever they were nearby. It had been extremely useful during the Cold War especially, when America would sneak in with various guises and Russia took mere weeks – sometimes months, though, when America’s guise would be particularly well inspired – to find him.

            It was unsurprising then, that he had woken to the feeling of a nation _very_ close to him, and the inexplicable urge to classify that feeling and presence as _America_. He hadn’t survived centuries as a growing Empire and decades as a superpower without learning to trust his gut instinct, so he believed it when he realized that _yes_ , America would be that foolish to break into his house. In midwinter.

            He grunted softly as he pushed himself out of bed, almost soundlessly. He would find the damned brat, and then he would be able to get back to sleep.

            Soundlessly, he slipped down through his house, well aware of all the trick traps and the intentionally creaky planks that he’d left in place so that anyone unused to the passages in his home would twist through one of them and alert him. Though it seemed that America was surprisingly graceful; aside from the creak of the window’s displacement, there had yet to be a sound from the usually obnoxiously loud young superpower.

            There was a soft crash from down near the living room, followed by a bitten off swear, and he wondered why he thought America could be quiet at all.

            But it wasn’t long at all until he made his way silently into the living room, and paused in the door frame, making sure he wasn’t blocking any light to give himself away.

            America was there, kneeling by the slightly barren Christmas tree, sliding a small present underneath bare evergreen boughs. Looking particularly merry in a red Santa hat, coat, blue jeans, and red converse, he strung a soft string of tinsel and a garland of popcorn across the slightly more cheerful looking evergreen, smiling softly at the sight, almost aglow in the warmth of the hearth’s light. He only vaguely remembered moving closer to the softly glowing young nation.

            He only realized where he was when the younger nation stood up and backed into his chest, freezing in shock when he realized what had just happened. It was all the opportunity that Russia needed to snap out of his shock and wrap his arms firmly around the younger nation, before he hauled the startled blond over his shoulder and marched all the way across the room, aiming up towards the bedroom.

            The startled protests and fervent attempts to wriggle out of the former superpower’s iron grip were met with strengthening bonds and a wicked grin. Sure, they would sleep for a while – Russia was never one to pass up on his sleep when he had a chance to have a lie in – but _now_ ….

            He had something far more interesting to do come morning…

            “Put me down, goddamnit Ivan!”

            “Not until we get into the bedroom, _Fredka_.”

            “I’ve got a meeting in _two hours!_ ”

            “That’s your fault. _You_ broke into my house. Which, I still want to know how you did that, by the way.”

            “ _Ivan!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Interesting how all of Alfred's adventures took him near the bedrooms of FACE family, hmm? It's almost like he was *trying* to get caught...


End file.
